


And love, don't leave me waiting

by lanyon



Series: Bad Boy Boogie [11]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Epikegster, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:18:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent is on a roll, professionally. Personally, it's a different matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And love, don't leave me waiting

**Author's Note:**

> +Enormous thanks to **Idril** as always, for the constant support.  
>  +Title from Glen Hansard.

“Christ, this season’s rookies are barely cold in their bed, and they’re already talking about next season.” Jeff gestures with his fork, rice flying everywhere.

“Seriously?” asks Kent. “Wasn’t like that in my day, you know.”

Jeff snorts. “Right because you kind of ruined everything for everyone that season, breaking records and sweeping awards.”

Kent knows that Jeff doesn’t know just how much he ruined that season so he pastes on a smile and nods. “Right, exactly. Everyone just focused on how awesome I was for a whole season. It was great.” He takes a sip of his beer. “So what are people talking about?”

“Well, you know Charbo’s kid brother’s gonna be in the draft next year, right?”

“Yeah, his stats are pretty decent. I wonder where he’ll end up. Charbo’s super-proud of him.” Kent shifts a little in his seat. 

“And everyone’s talking about how this is Zimmermann’s senior year so, I guess, he’ll be in the league next year.” 

Kent drops his fork. 

♠

Aces line-up

Vladimir Berezhnoy — Kent Parson — Jeff Forrester  
Niklas Olafsson — Gabriel Charbonneau — Jakub Bartos  
Fiachra Murphy-Worthington — Blue Ramirez — Niles Niblett  
Peter Beauchamp — Gustav Sellers — Alexander Belov

Charles Beasley — Rocky Gibbs  
Guillerme Mackey — Donald Novotny  
Paris Okoye — Jonathan Tremblay

Kristian Kivi  
Boris Gagnon

♠

The first part of the season goes well for the Aces, and for Kent, especially. He’s on a twenty-five games point streak when they start their roadtrip in early December. 

“Your country is fucking _cold_ ,” he says, throwing a towel at Charbo’s head when he comes out of the bathroom.

“You’re from New York. You can handle a little snow.” Charbo’s not looking all that sympathetic and Kent huffs as he tugs a hoodie on over his t-shirt and pulls sleep-pants up over his shorts. 

“I think I’m coming down with something. It can’t be this fucking cold.”

Charbo puts away his iPad and stands up. He freezes, mid-stretch. 

“What?” asks Kent. “What’s that look for?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s mine,” says Charbo, gesturing at Kent. 

Kent tugs on his hoodie and, okay, maybe it’s a bit loose across the shoulders, like it’s been stretched out of shape a little. He shrugs. “Whatever. Finders, keepers.”

Charbo looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Pretty sure you found that in my bag, Parse.” He reaches out and tugs at one of the drawstrings on the hoodie. Kent tries not to sway towards him. 

“I’m gonna shower. Find something decent to watch, okay?” Charbo steps away and pulls off his t-shirt as he’s walking into the bathroom and Kent gets a glimpse of his broad back and he has to bite his lip so that he doesn’t make any inappropriate sounds. 

“What counts as decent?” he asks, raising his voice over the sound of the shower. He supposes Charbo can’t hear him so he settles down on his bed and starts to flick through the channels. He finds a crime documentary and, usually, both he and Charbo enjoy watching them so he figures it’s a safe bet. 

“I’m gonna call room service!” he calls out, just as the shower shuts off. 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Charbo calls back through the bedroom door, so Kent orders two chicken pasta dishes with salad on the sides. 

Charbo comes out just as Kent is hanging up. He’s rubbing his hair with his towel and he’s wearing a pretty small pair of shorts and Kent looks down at his phone. He can hear Charbo rummaging through his bag. 

“Did you steal my sleep-pants too?” asks Charbo, raising his head. He looks at Kent, half-scandalised and half-amused. 

“They’re fleecy,” mumbles Kent. 

“Fucker,” says Charbo, good-naturedly. He tugs on a long-sleeved t-shirt, with a faded Aces emblem on the front. 

“You’re Canadian,” says Kent. “You can take it.”

“Did you ever think that maybe we can deal with the cold weather because we know how to dress appropriately for it?” asks Charbo, getting into his bed and tugging the covers right up to his shoulders. 

“Fuck off with your logic, kid.” Kent grins. “I know you guys run naked through the streets in December.”

“Who told you?” demands Charbo. He’s turned onto his side and he’s looking at Kent and clearly struggling not to laugh. 

“I know all your secrets,” says Kent, loftily. 

To his surprise, Charbo nods. “Yeah, I think you do.” 

For a moment, Kent can’t look away from him and he wants to ask what Charbo means; what secrets can Kent possibly know when Charbo is an open book? “So,” he says, gesturing at the television. “Guilty or not guilty?” 

After a moment, Charbo laughs softly. “Guilty.” 

♠

Beastly goes down against the Bruins. It’s a bad check, which is borderline illegal, and the five remaining D-men are struggling to contain the Bruins’ top two lines. 

Giddings tells Gabriel in no uncertain terms that he’s not to think about repercussions. Gabriel gets in a few hits, but they’re absolutely flawlessly executed and he wins the puck, sending it up the ice to Barty whose shot ricochets off the post. Gabriel connects with it and winds up for a slapshot, through traffic, and it goes in, past Rask. 

The Aces are leading by two goals, now, with three minutes to go. Barty wraps Gabriel up in a bone-crushing hug.

“Think _that_ is right type of repercussion,” he shouts and Gabriel grins around his mouthguard. 

As he skates past the bench for celebratory fistbumps, he catches Kent’s eye and Kent’s nodding. 

Gabriel gets third star and, even though Beastly’s injury takes the shine off the game, Gabriel’s pretty proud of how he did. Even better, this is the second-last game of their road trip. They’ve got Falcs tomorrow night and then they’re heading home to Vegas. 

“You coming for dinner, Cap?” he asks Kent, just as he’s about to leave the locker room, after the post-game interviews. 

“Nah. Got special dispensation from J,” says Kent. “Gonna head out and see an old friend.”

♠

 **Las Vegas Aces** @lasvegasaces • 1m  
Aces beat Bruins 3-1! Bring on the Falcs. 

♠

Kent pulls up outside the Haus. Immediately, his arrival sparks some interest, which isn’t surprising, given his choice of car and the fact that he’s an NHL captain. There’s a party in full swing and his timing is nothing, if not flawless. When he makes his way inside, through the throng, having satisfied himself that the fratbros outside aren’t going to trash his rental, he’s pretty taken aback at the sight of Jack Zimmermann, smiling with a small blonde guy and apparently about to take a selfie. 

Kent knows his voice carries through a crowd and he does kind of want to know if he has been missed, the way he _knows_ he’s being missed tonight, around a table in a restaurant in Boston. 

They go up to Jack’s room because it’s probably the only place they’ll get some privacy, short of going out to sit in Kent’s car but then people might get the wrong idea. 

The music is a dull, steady thud through the floor and through the walls. Kent hasn’t been alone with Zimms in such a long time. It’s easy, almost instinctive, to take a step closer, to be met half-way and to kiss. 

It’s instinctive that they pull apart, almost simultaneously.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry—” 

Kent shakes his head and he almost asks Zimms if this is what it’s like, to be dependent. He clenches his fists by his sides, flexing his fingers, itching to reach out again. He’s here for a very, very specific reason. He’s here to win back Jack Zimmerman’s hockey-playing heart, if not the rest of it. 

He wipes his mouth, and tries to focus. 

♠

Gabriel’s asleep when Kent comes back to the hotel. It’s long after curfew but he’s not sure what time it is, exactly. 

He thinks Kent’s been drinking. They have to play the Falconers tomorrow and their captain’s been drinking. He reaches out, fumbling a little, to turn on his bedside light.

“Parse?”

“Go back to sleep, Charbo,” says Kent. His voice is hoarse. He’s wearing his Aces snapback. Gabriel sits up. 

“You okay, Cap?” 

Kent sits down on his bed, on the far side, his back to Gabriel and to the room. “I’ve had better evenings.”

Kent’s on a thirty-one game points-streak. He’s not supposed to be sitting in a dim hotel room with his shoulders slumped like that. He’s not supposed to look so defeated when he is Kent Parson, the Aces’ ace.

“I went to Samwell to talk to Zimms.” 

Gabriel swallows. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised; of course that’s where Kent was going to go. Of course that is who Kent was going to see. It’s usually easy enough for Gabriel to forget about Zimmermann because Kent never talks about him.

“I wanted to persuade him to come play for the Aces,” says Kent. “He—” Kent laughs, harshly. “He’s going to sign for the fucking _Falcs_. For _fuck’s_ sake. He’ll never win anything there.” 

Gabriel wants to ask Kent if he’s still in love with Jack Zimmermann, but it seems like a fucking stupid question, given the circumstances. Instead, he gets out of bed and climbs across Kent’s bed, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. He thinks maybe, after all, Kent hasn't been drinking. He's just been feeling too many feelings and Gabriel knows that exhausts Kent and he aches a little for him. 

“C’mon,” he says, softly. “Lie down. It’s late and you’ve got a points streak to continue.”

Kent lets out another humourless laugh and he stands up. Gabriel’s hand falls to the bed. With his back to Gabriel, Kent unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his shoes and socks. Once he’s wriggled out of his jeans, he turns around and looks at Gabriel, a little bleakly. 

“Lie down,” says Gabriel again. He pulls back the bedclothes and tugs Kent down into the bed. Kent goes, easily enough. “C’mere,” says Gabriel. “Try to sleep, yeah?”

“You’ll stay?” asks Kent, quietly, almost meekly. 

“Not planning on sleeping in Barty’s bathtub, if that’s what you mean,” says Gabriel. 

This time, Kent’s laugh is an unexpected puff of air and amusement. “That was one time, fuck’s sake, and I didn't spent the whole night there.” 

Gabriel reaches across, to turn off the light, and he curls up behind Kent, letting his arm drape over Kent’s waist.

After a moment, Kent whispers, “Do you think this is a little gay?” 

Gabriel bursts out laughing and Kent’s shoulders are shaking too. “You wanna sleep on your own?”

Kent’s hand, tight on Gabriel’s wrist, is answer enough.

♠

The Aces’ Unstoppable Captain  
The Aces’ captain, Kent Parson, rounded out a successful road trip with two goals against the Providence Falconers. He’s now on a thirty-two game points streak and it’s worth remembering that Parson is only twenty-four years old, giving him plenty of time to beat his own records. 

“Bad” Bob Zimmermann, a true legend of the game, says that Parson “is incomparable. He’s pretty unstoppable these days. I’ve no doubt he’ll be a multiple Stanley Cup winner.”

If ever there was a single hockey player capable of winning the league, Kent Parson is that guy.

♠

After their first home game in a fortnight, a victory against the Aeros, Kent realises one simple fact: he’s exhausted. He’s been playing out of his skin all season and it’s one of his great talents, to make it look effortless. 

It’s not, is the thing. It’s not effortless and it never has been. 

He goes home early from their post-game night out, exchanging fist-bumps with Jeff and Charbo as he leaves. 

♠

 **NHL** 1340  
LVA - Parson day to day with viral illness.

♠

_Are you OK? Do you need chicken soup?_

Kent can’t help smiling at Charbo’s text and he’s about to reply when another three come through in quick succession. 

_I can’t actually make chicken soup. Do McDonald’s do chicken soup?_

_You don’t have mumps do you? You did look awfully close to Sid during that Pens game last week._

_DID YOU GIVE SID MUMPS? :(((_

Kent taps out a quick reply. _Don’t worry, Charbo. Your national treasure remains untouched by yours truly. I just have a cold. Thx tho._

He sends another text. _Also those were face-offs, not flirting. Sid will KNOW when I’m flirting._

He smiles at his phone for a while longer and almost relishes the ache when he thinks about Charbo, and his frankly ridiculous hair, and his smile.

There’s optional skate and, for maybe the second time in his life, Kent skips it. He texts Giddings to let him know and then he turns over and goes back to sleep. He’s vaguely aware of Kit coming into the room at one point to meow at him, and then to curl up on his back to sleep, her purrs reverberating through his back. 

When he wakes up again, it’s late in the afternoon. He sits up, heart thumping, because he’s somehow slept the whole day away and he feels incredibly sorry for himself. He thinks about calling his mom, or texting Jack, or calling Charbo. He swears under his breath when he sees that there’s a series of missed calls on his phone, as well as some texts and notifications from the NHL app. 

♠

 **NHL** 1713

LVA - F Samuel Hastings called up from Foxes; Charbonneau on IR for suspected concussion.


End file.
